


Nutcracker Nights

by nauticalparamour



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Nutcracker, Post War, holiday hideaway, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2019-02-13 15:00:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12986541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nauticalparamour/pseuds/nauticalparamour
Summary: Hermione is sent to Kuressaare, Estonia to consult with a man there who can remove a complex curse from a Nutcracker doll. Only, she never expected it to be someone from her past, someone she never expected to see again.





	Nutcracker Nights

**Author's Note:**

> My city prompt was Kuressaare, Estonia, and my word prompt was Nutcracker. Huge thank you to kristeristerin for beta reading this for me!

Hermione certainly didn’t expect herself to be wandering the streets of Kuressaare on Christmas Eve, all by herself. At the same time, she couldn’t pretend as though there was anywhere she’d rather be. Harry and Mrs. Weasley -- both mother hens in their own rights -- had tutted and cooed, lamenting that she would be all alone on Christmas, that she worked too hard, that she gave too much of her time to the Ministry.

In all honesty, Hermione had jumped at the chance to take an assignment over the holidays. She had wanted to be alone, knowing it would be far too painful to make her annual pilgrimage to the Burrow, feeling more and more like an outsider each year, denied a Weasley sweater, and forced to play nice with Lavender, Ron’s fiancee. It wasn’t that Hermione was upset with the breakup -- far from it actually -- but she hated the way that Ron seemed to  _ think _ he had something over on her.

The little Estonian city was beautiful, covered in a blanket of glittering snow, a few businesses having put up twinkling lights to match the magnificent tree that was decorated in the town square. The streets were quiet, though, the kind of dampening silence that only snow could bring. Hermione looked around seeing little tufts of smoke coming from chimneys, with families probably gathered around the fire. It was only her who was alone.

Though, she knew that wasn’t true. After all, she was headed to a shop right now to have a cursed item looked at, and the man who owned the shop was said to be an expert in Russian charms and hexes, and it was him who’d insisted on a Christmas Eve meeting, so he must be just as alone as she was. With a large, carefully wrapped nutcracker placed under her arm, she was delighted to see just who this elusive expert was, and to finally know  _ what _ curse was on the object. She’d been studying it all month and hadn’t made any headway.

The shop front was hidden in amongst the other stores. Looking at the sign, she figured it served as a little nicknack or souvenir shop, intriguing her even more. How could a seller of muggle kitsch be a world-renowned charms master? Shaking away her worries, she pushed the door open, letting in a swirl of icy wind and snow.

The man behind the counter barely looked up from whatever he was tinkering away at, so Hermione decided to give him a look up and down. Even seated, she could tell that he was a physically large man. His long legs were folded awkwardly so he could sit on a too small stool. Broad shoulders were covered by a navy blue and white fair isle sweater. His face was deep in concentration, his eyes covered by wavy brown hair, obviously in need of a trim. Strong nose stood proudly out from the center of his face, while the rest of him was covered by a well-groomed beard, the same color of his hair.

Stepping forward, Hermione cleared her throat. “Excuse me, Mister...” she trailed off, realizing that the Ministry had never actually told her what his name was, just how to locate the shop.  _ How odd _ , she thought, feeling rather embarrassed. “I’ve come with the nutcracker the Ministry contacted you about.” Setting down the wrapped item on the counter in front of him, she waited with baited breath for him to acknowledge her at all.

Pushing aside whatever he was working on, a wand slipped out of his sleeve, turning the shop sign to read closed, before peeling back the wrapping to reveal the brightly colored nutcracker in its red soldier’s uniform. Levitating it in front of him, he seemed to be performing different detection spells, listening to her chatter about all the things that she had tried to break the case.

“You never would have figured out this curse,” he said, and she thought she could see a hint of a smirk on his lips. “Very, very old curse, from Siberia. Not many people know this kind of magic.”

“I’ll beg your pardon, I am very well read and I am sure my research --” Hermione narrowed her eyes at the arrogant tone in his voice, wanting to rebuke his claim. It was a bit  _ odd _ to have a Russian living in Estonia -- after all, the Estonians were closer to the Finns than the Russians. Not to mention, the whole time she’d been watching him work, she’d been trying to get a better look at his face, but he’d kept it carefully hidden. There was something familiar about it that she couldn’t quite place. “Excuse me, do I know you?” she asked tentatively.

Now she was positive that a smirk spread across his face. He  _ finally _ looked up at her, and Hermione was certain that she’d seen those dark, glittering eyes before. She doubted that she would ever forget the face of Antonin Dolohov.

Gasping, she took a stumbling step backwards, only to watch him stand up and walk around the counter towards her. “So you do remember me, Granger,” he responded, his deep, rumbling voice sending a thrill up her spine. His hand darted out, just as she’d made up her mind to leave, wrapping around her smaller wrist, not letting her go. “Don’t go so quickly. We were having such good time talking curses,” he said quietly, despite his slightly sinister words. “Let’s continue over hot chocolate.”

Hermione wrenched her hand back from him. “Are you insane, Dolohov? You tried to kill me last time we met!” She knew that he’d spent some time in Azkaban which tended to leave scars on your mind, but was he  _ really _ asking her to share a hot cocoa with him?

“You tried to kill me last time, too,” he countered with a shrug of his shoulders. “It was middle of war. But war is over now.”

“But I was only sixteen!” Hermione faltered, thinking of the way the he had dueled her in the Ministry of Magic. It had been the first time she’d faced real opposition before. “You can’t honestly expect me to just let that go.”

Dolohov snorted at her. “If I wanted you dead, you wouldn’t be here talking to me now. Time to move on from past,” he crossed his arms over his wide chest, large arms straining against his sweater. “I’ve served my time in prison, and been released.”

She worried her lower lip between her teeth, thinking over his words. It was true that he had done his punishment before being released...it wasn’t as though he had escaped from Azkaban. Did that mean she should give him a chance? Mostly, she didn’t understand  _ why _ he wanted to get a drink with her, so she decided to ask him. “Why do you want to keep talking to me anyway? I’m still a muggleborn, in case you’ve forgotten.”

Surging forward, he closed the gap between their bodies, his eyes focused on her lips. Before she knew it, he was bending to manage their considerable height difference. Instead of moving away, she let her eyes flutter closed, subconsciously leaning into him when his hands cupped her cheeks.

His kiss was surprisingly gentle for a domineering man like Dolohov and she was bewildered by the immediate connection she felt with him. His lips were firm and soft against hers, and he lingered just long enough to leave her wanting more. Embarrassed by her sudden feelings, Hermione could feel a blush blossom on her cheeks -- surely brighter red than the uniform of the nutcracker she’d brought in.

“I think you are very beautiful, Granger. But, I also like hearing you talk about charms,” he said with a shrug, seeming almost a bit  _ bashful _ that he’d made such a bold move. “I’ve been alone with muggles since I’ve come here to Kuressaare, but I think fate brings us together on this Christmas Eve.”

Eyebrows knitted together, Hermione considered his words. It was true that she was in for a rather lonely night -- even if that had been by design -- but she couldn’t deny that they had history, one that was entirely negative. Still, could she give him another chance in the holiday spirit, to show her what kind of changes he’d made? It was true that  _ something _ must have transformed him if he’d been living amongst muggles for so long without causing any trouble. That didn’t sound like the old Dolohov to her.

“The Ministry knows it’s you that they’ve sent me to?” she questioned, wondering if it was pure luck or if they’d also deemed him safe enough.

“They are the ones who suggest this for further rehabilitation,” Dolohov told her, motioning to the shop around him. With all the bits and bobs that lined the walls, it seemed he was doing quite well for himself. He’d even decorated by putting up a bit of holly and tinsel.

Hoping that she wasn’t going to regret it later, Hermione nodded, feeling a bubble of happiness when she saw the way his face lit up. “Alright, but just one hot chocolate,” she told him, fighting a grin of her own. “And only because I want you to explain this Siberian curse to me, Dolohov,” she added, if only to save face should anything go wrong.

Proud that he had won, he summoned his coat from the backroom. “Please, call me Antonin,” he insisted, before offering her his arm so that they could leave the shop together. Hermione took it, feeling the warmth of his body underneath her hand. “I am sure that you have many questions, Hermione.”

Biting her lip again, Hermione nodded beside him, before starting in on a barrage of questions while they made their way to the restaurant where they would get their cocoa. She was pleasantly surprised when he never got irritated or annoyed by her multitude of questions, just answering them to the best of his ability. As the night wore on, he made her laugh more than once, and astonished her with the breadth and depth of his knowledge of charms. She found she was enjoying herself far more than she should with a former Death Eater.

Perhaps it was fate -- and a belief in second chances -- that had brought them together, or maybe it was just the holiday spirit. But by the end of the night, when she returned to the bed and breakfast she was staying at, she owled the Ministry to let them know she was going to extend her trip. Hermione was looking forward to exploring the city Antonin had made his home with him.


End file.
